


Swallowed Whole

by NebulousMistress



Series: The Belly of the Beast [1]
Category: Danny Phantom
Genre: Gen, Million Dollar Ghost AU, Transformation, Vore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-11
Updated: 2013-05-11
Packaged: 2017-12-11 13:49:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/799428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NebulousMistress/pseuds/NebulousMistress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Death is life. It's just a philosophy, right? Right?</p><p>Eaten alive, Vlad Masters finds that there might be more to it than that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Swallowed Whole

The Behemoth descended. Vlad barely had the chance to look up from his crystalline prize before the monster's mouth engulfed him. He struggled against the monster's tongue, trying to escape but unwilling to give up his prize. But he failed. The Behemoth swallowed its prey, its four clawed hands going to its belly. Its tongue lolled in contentment.

“Butter biscuits!” Vlad shouted, the sound muffled by the belly of the monster closing in around him. He wrapped his arms around the crystal case, within it the Skeleton Key he'd searched long and hard for. He wasn't giving this up.

Soft slimy walls closed in all around him, holding him still, preventing him from thrashing about to escape. He gasped at the sensation, as gentle pressure wrapped around him entirely from his feet to his scalp. He clutched the Key's case to his chest, worried it would somehow be stolen from him. But the monster's belly made no such attempt, instead pressing against him on all sides with soft and wet.

His eyes fell closed. He didn't want to deal with stomach acid in his eyes, that was it. But there was a glaring lack of acid around him. Not a single note of pain jolted through him. In fact the ache of being trounced by Jack Fenton began to lessen as muscles unclenched and bruises were soothed. 

Vlad sighed. It was easy to forget where he was as slimy walls pressed in on him, engulfed him. And then they began to shift. He came back to reality, squirmed and shifted as his legs were folded up and tucked toward his chest. They were pressed against the crystal case before the movement eased, leaving him curled up in the Behemoth's stomach.

He felt around with his hands, felt the slimy walls press back as he searched for some weakness in the stomach wall. He felt nothing useful as he slid his hands through the slime; he couldn't feel any imperfections. He had to get out of here.

But he was getting so tired.

He knew it was dangerous, very dangerous to fall asleep in the belly of anything. He might turn human and suffocate. The stomach walls might decide to excrete acid and he wouldn't be conscious to escape. Or it might do worse.

He squirmed again, feeling the slimy walls clutch him tighter. It felt like an embrace...

The Behemoth was moving. Vlad swore it felt like the creature was rocking back and forth, trying to put him to sleep.

He felt so heavy... And everything around him was so soft, warm, slick... The slime must have some sedating effect... He needed to escape... He needed to...

...to sleep...

Sleep.

*****

Vlad gasped, his eyes popping open. He panted as he looked around him. He was surrounded, soft pink walls pressing in on him on all sides, he was curled up to protect...

Oh. Right. He remembered what'd happened now. The crystal case still sat cradled in sleep-loosened arms. He was still in his ghost form. But he was still trapped in the monster's belly. He squirmed, trying to stretch out. The walls around him contracted, holding him still even as he tried to move.

It wasn't much use. When he'd reach a new position his fleshy prison would simply curl him back up again. It took effort to remain in any other contortion, effort that he was rapidly finding he did not have. He paused to catch his breath, letting himself be curled back up to his starting position. At least it wasn't uncomfortable. And at least he wasn't immersed in acid yet. But the slimy walls imprisoning him had grown even more wet and he could feel that slick slime permeating all around him. He wasn't sure he'd be able to breathe for much longer.

His prison was like a pocket, a completely contained bubble inside the Behemoth. He felt around for an opening, an entrance or exit or anything... Nothing. He was truly surrounded, completely encased. Engulfed. And his prison was filling with fluid.

Vlad could see the slimy fluid half-immersing the crystal case, could feel it climbing up around him. More than just slimy wet from the walls, this was worse. More. He tried to crane his head up, tried to keep his face out of the rising slime, but the walls kept trying to push his head back down, curl him up, immerse him properly.

Vlad gasped at the exertion, as his tiny bubble of air grew smaller... smaller...

He took one last breath and then he was immersed.

He blinked, his eyes adjusting to the new medium. It didn't feel acidic or even dangerous. It felt... kind of nice...

Vlad shook himself, trying to drag some sense back into himself. He was trapped here, imprisoned in the Behemoth's stomach, immersed in fluid, and now he was down to his last breath of air. He looked down at the crystal case, at its single breath of air within. But even that was a myth, a lie, as a single stream of bubbles hissing from a crack in the crystal stole that from him too. He hugged the case close to his chest. He always knew he was going to die searching for an artifact.

He gave in and exhaled. It was the only sensible thing to do.

He inhaled, felt his lungs fill with fluid. Tiny motes of pain came from his chest as he drowned. But...

Wait a minute...

Vlad gave a few exploratory breaths and then laughed, giddy with relief. He could breathe. He wasn't going to die today. No, not today.

He started feeling around again, searching for some way out.

*****

The Behemoth reclined on a favorite rock pile near its lair. It rubbed its four clawed hands over its swollen belly and purred, long and low. No matter what the other denizens of the Zone might think, it always did enjoy the aftermath of a good Swallowing. Especially powerful ghosts like this one. That power always did take a long time to break down, making the experience that much longer, more fulfilling. Its tail waved in the aether of the Zone, displaying its contentment as it felt tiny hands sliding along its insides. Looking for a way out, it supposed.

The Behemoth yowled and purred sounds to its belly, to the ghost within. There was no way out now. The ghost's only option was to give in. The Behemoth wondered how long it would take for the ghost to realize that.

*****

Vlad squirmed and kicked. Sticky fondant, the Behemoth was gloating! That had to be what it was doing. He could feel large hands pressing in on him from outside his flesh prison, could hear its noises reverberating all through his body. The creature had swallowed him whole and now he was going to have to listen to it mock him before he was finally digested.

Vlad snorted in frustration. He had no idea how long he'd been here or even how often he slept. All he knew was he could feel his waking hours shrinking. Soon he wouldn't be able to wake up, kept unconscious by the sedating effect of the darkness and the slime and that creature's damnable purring!

He scraped his fingers across the inside of his prison, trying to grasp some purchase, cause some damage, do anything...

He felt the Behemoth rumble at the sensation. It felt like... laughter?

Vlad roared in frustration and tried to thrash about. He could feel that laughter stop, turn to purring as hands pressed down on him, kept him in place as surely as the walls of his prison.

He didn't want to die here...

But he was so tired...

The Behemoth started to sing, crooning notes of warbled shrieks. Vlad's eyes closed as the monster's lullaby filled his mind.

He didn't want... to die...

*****

The Behemoth was worried. The ghost in its belly wasn't settling down like he was supposed to. He kept wiggling, protesting, still trying to find a way out. This was not acceptable. 

Thus the Behemoth had left behind the comfortable stone of its lair to seek out a voice of wisdom. Someone who could give advice. Someone wreathed in frost and snow.

“Well now, what do we have here?”

The Behemoth rumbled a greeting, slithering through the snow. It swept away the snow to reveal the bare ice. Not quite stone but it would have to do. The Behemoth reclined against the ice, splaying comfortably across the landscape. The bulge in its belly wiggled as the ghost inside protested.

Frostbite clasped his claws together. “Aww, you've Swallowed recently, haven't you? But it hasn't settled down yet?”

Yowl. Purr, growl. The Behemoth slapped its tail against a cliffside, cracking the ice.

“Now, now, no reason to get frustrated,” Frostbite said. He climbed up next to the Behemoth and placed his claws on its belly. One furry ear was pressed against its scaly flank. “Hello in there,” Frostbite called.

_Get me out of here!_

“In due time, young one.”

_No, now! Get me out of here **now!**_

Frostbite petted the scaly belly, both to keep the Behemoth calm as well as to soothe the ghost within. “And why would I do that?”

_I don't want to die in here!_

Frostbite chuckled. “Death is life, young one.”

_This is no time to discuss philosophy!_

“It's not philosophy.” Frostbite paused. “Well, maybe it is. But it's also truth, young one. You will die. And then you will live again. You have already died once. And you will die again. Just as you live now you will live again. It's the cycle of eternity.”

_You're insane._

“And you will understand my madness in time,” Frostbite said, patting the Behemoth's swollen belly. “When you're older. You are still so young. Do not rush to grow up but accept it when the time comes. It is the only way to happiness.”

The ghost within struggled, growling and snarling. The Behemoth grabbed its belly, distress clearly written on its features.

“Let him wear himself out,” Frostbite said. “He'll understand in time. Tell me, how did you manage to find such a powerful young ghost, by the way?”

The Behemoth described its ordeal using yowls, snarls, purrs, and generous waving of four sets of claws. Frostbite nodded, his furry face grave. “So he has the Skeleton Key,” he mused. “Dark times are coming for the Realms. There has been prophecy. We will prepare.” He patted it's belly. “Take care of this little one.”

The Behemoth purred before hoisting itself upright. Its clawed hands went to its belly as it purred and swayed, trying to calm the ghost within.

****

Death is life.

That's what the insane ghost had said from the other side of his fleshy prison.

Vlad glared into the darkness, glared at the crystal case that had brought him here in the first place. That he was apparently going to die for.

He had heard the philosophy before. 'Death is life' was a Ghost Zone myth to explain where all of the myriad of creatures within came from. Creatures without any living analogue past, present, or future. That a single consciousness would be reincarnated, essentially, into a multitude of bodies. Over time these bodies would be changed, shifted, twisted by the forces of the Zone and that which aided them.

Vlad wasn't sure he liked this philosophy.

He did appreciate the aspect of immortality involved. He could even accept the idea that completely inhuman forms used to be people. But he didn't want to give up his. Not when he had so much riding on it, so much left to do. And now this, this imprisonment in the Behemoth's belly, he was supposed to just accept this and, what, let himself be digested? Let himself fall asleep and never awaken? Be absorbed into the Behemoth's bulk? Perhaps that's how the creature had grown so large...

No. He would get out of here. Before he was digested.

But he couldn't even summon an ectoblast. He'd tried. It was as though the fluid surrounding him, permeating him, it suppressed his ghost core, cut him off from his powers even as it kept him in ghost form. And trying to access them made him so tired...

And the creature was singing again. Once it had been so foreign to him. Now he almost expected it every time he started to brood. The purring, the warbling, the growling tones...

He relaxed into his prison's fleshy embrace.

Once it had been so monstrous. Now it sounded... nice...

Like a mother's voice...

*****

Something was different now but Vlad couldn't put his finger on it. Something was vaguely wrong. More than just being here, breathing this fluid, trapped in this belly. It wasn't acid, no, Vlad had almost given up on expecting to ever feel the bite of dissolving acid. It was... different.

There were no days or nights, no possible way to count the time. His own breaths were impossible to trace, not when so much time was spent asleep. He had no heartbeat to pass the time, not in this form. All that he had was the Behemoth's crooning voice, a voice he was coming to expect, to enjoy, even to love. He would find himself curled up here for eternities, listening to its voice. To her voice.

But then he'd remember the crystal case in his arms. And he'd remember why he was here, what he'd come here for. That he had ambitions, needs, tasks, plans outside in the Zone and on Earth. He'd remember that he couldn't stay here. But then he'd hear her voice and he wouldn't want to leave.

Something was happening. Something he couldn't stop. Something he wasn't sure he wanted to stop.

*****

A clicking sound drew him out of slumber. Vlad opened bleary eyes to see the crystal case, his arms around it. The key had long ago been knocked off its pillow, maybe that was the clicking noise. He gripped it to try and recreate the noise.

His hands felt strange. And they clicked...

Vlad spread his hands, his eyes going wide. His black gloves were shredded at the fingertips, the latex no match for the long black claws that extended from his nailbeds. Thick, menacing, monstrous...

“Ganache truffles,” he whispered. He was being... transformed...

He had to get out of here. He looked at his shiny black claws and realized he finally had a way out.

*****

The Behemoth howled as the ghost within clawed his way out. She snarled, chasing after him as he shot away as fast as his power could carry him. But she couldn't chase him long as he darted through a small portal, too small for her to do much more than grope through. She snarled at him, ordering him to come back. But he was gone.

She growled and stalked off. He wouldn't stay away forever. She'd Swallow him again. And this time he wouldn't claw his way out of her. He'd know better next time. Because next time he'd come to her.

She'd make sure of it.

*****

Vlad collapsed on the floor of his lab, coughing up clear fluid. He forced it out of his lungs, desperately taking in air to replace it. He had to stop the process. Had to stop the transformation before it progressed and further. Then he could assess the damage, figure out the amount of time he'd lost, gloat over escaping with the crystalline case and its precious contents.

He laid on the floor, gasping. He gazed at his claws, noting their color and sheen. He'd seen claws like this on a dinosaur fossil once. He never thought he'd see them again on a living specimen, much less on himself.

This was unacceptable.

*****

Weeks.

Almost four weeks.

It had seemed like so much longer than a mere four weeks. Vlad was so very lucky he'd set his companies up to be able to survive without his leadership for long periods like this. Trusted stooges to handle his voting shares, a competent board held in check by loyalty as well as fear, a personal assistant who knew exactly why he would disappear and who kept his secret well. This had been a successful test, his first long unexplained absence in years.

If only everything could be considered such a success.

He'd spent a day with his veins hooked up to an ectofiltrator, trying desperately to remove the offending impurities. The transformation appeared to have been halted but now he was taking stock of what exactly had changed.

The claws were long, black, shining, and very strong. He'd dulled a woodworker's file trying to take the point off of one of them. He'd have to invest in stronger tools, perhaps something diamond-tipped.

Patches of scales marred his otherwise smooth blue skin. Purplish scales on one hip, along one calf, on the backs of his hands and the base of his claws, all along his spine. A ridge of tiny spikes, dull and blunted, followed the line of vertebrae down his back. The scales grew thicker there, almost rough as they surrounded each little bump on that ridge.

He felt bigger, larger around at the chest. He almost felt like he could stretch out a pair of wings on his back if only he tried hard enough. He wasn't sure he wanted to try.

And that wasn't all.

Vlad turned away from the mirror with a sigh. If he could file down these claws his ghost half should be able to pass for himself again. No one would notice.

He took a deep breath and took human form. Blue eyes clamped shut, not wanting to know what had gone wrong there. He faced the mirror and opened one eye.

Wait...

His other eye popped open as he checked everything in the mirror. He laughed to himself, laughter that almost turned hysterical in his relief. He still looked human. There wasn't a thing different about this form.

He sank to the ground and laughed. He was still human.

At least that had gone right for him. And he still had the Skeleton Key...

He smiled at the mirror, an evil predatory grin. He still had the Skeleton Key.

The Ring of Rage and the Crown of Fire would be his...


End file.
